Laughs and Lobotomies

I don’t know what it means to be in love. I know what it means to have your heart swell up like a balloon and then popped, fizzling away. I know what it means to have 15 texts read, unanswered. “You’ve become my best friend, but you know I don’t see you that way”, he says. Ripped out and stomped on and kicked out the door. I’m done but I try again. And again and again and again. Round and round the merry go round. I’m getting dizzy. I vomit but he doesn’t stop. I say no but he doesn’t leave. I’m screaming in my head but no sound comes out. Here is my name, find me if something goes wrong. Half naked cold tile on the face. I don’t know how I got there. I’m not *that* girl, how could I be *that* girl. Cognitive dissonance and 11am beers with a side of benadryl. It isn’t real none of it is. Cold blade blooms red. Maybe it will be over soon, maybe it will start over soon. I blow up another balloon. It is red and bright and reminds me of your laugh. One. Last. Try.